FauxMetal Alchemist
by coughkouichicough
Summary: Roy and Ed singing? A military chorus line? Over the top serious monologing? A simple musical paradoy of FullMetal Alchemist is all this story is... or so you think... please R und R muska


Disclaimer: We do not own FullMetal Alchemist, Wicked, The Phantom of the Opera, anything by Hayao Miyazaki, The Music Man, L'ArcenCiel, or any other random things that are featured throughout the multiple chapters of this parody.

ckc: Brenjy! I am back again to start another fanfic without finishing any of the rest! muska This is a joint effort with my sister, THEWakeboardingFuzzyKiwibird, who wrote the Alarm Clock of Doom fic and still needs to finish it. Don't worry, we will complete them... one day... in the future... the very FAR future

…awkward silence….

TWFK: This is a parody of FullMetal Alchemist. You know, I can't believe I'm actually helping write this. I don't even like anime. But when you live with my sister, its kind of hard to ignore. We're kind-of best friends, in spite of the fact that we're sisters, and have rather polar-opposite personalities; if I didn't talk to her while she was watching anime, I'd never see her. (Yes, that is a bit of an exaggeration). Anyway, I saw of bit of his show and it was actually ok--it has a deep story-line, its king of philosophical--not to mention perfect parody material. So, without further adieu, here is the first chapter of our little batch of randomness.

ckc: And ya'll will definitely be able to tell whether it's me or my sister writing because we have _very_ different styles. Mine is… I don't know and hers is… a little over the top. In fact, you might need a dictionary to define some of the words she uses. Anyways- FMA ROX MY KIWIBIRDS! MUUUSKAAA!

Without further adieu, we present--

FAUXMETAL ALCHEMIST!

(There is a violent scream from somewhere in the background)

" FULLmetal! It's FULLMETAL!"

ckc: GOMEN EDO! GOMEN!

ckc: Just as little note... the way that we have put the song that L'ArcenCiel sings is my sister's impression on it the first time she heard it. She couldn't understand their thick accents and thought they were all drunk but now she loves L'ArcenCiel. WOO! Go Hyde!

TWFK: Yes! Thats the one good thing from her watching this show! I finally found a modern rock band that I like! of course, I haven't got the slightest clue what they are saying most of the time, because they sing in Japanese, but I love their music. And the lead guitarist (Ken) should stop smoking

ckc: Wir haben L'ArcenCiel!

Translation: We have L'ArcenCiel.

ckc: JAAAAA! MUSKA

Translation: YYYEEEEAAAAHHH! Muska!

TWFK: Basically, we are going to have them sing the theme song...well, one of the theme songs...the best theme song. Before L'ArcenCiel, however, we have a guest performance by the band BIG3GO, whose members include Roy, Taisa, and Mustang. ENJOY!

ckc: BUT--

TWFK: SSSHHH! Let them figure it out.

ckc: But BIG3GO couldn't make it.

TWFK: Praytell, why?

ckc: Well...due to conflicts regarding artistic domain, Roy, Taisa, and Mustang have gone their separate ways.

TWFK: Oh. (Scratches head to figure out how that works). Well, here is L'ArcenCiel. Enjoy!

* * *

L'ArcenCielL'ArcenCiel

* * *

A spotlight shone upon an empty stage. There seemed to be no reason to illuminate it's barrennes, but that solitary beam exhumed a feeling of expectancy, as if waiting only for someone to step into its ray. For whom does it wait? Ask not for whom the light shines: it shines for thee. For are all men not players, who dance and weep their parts across the stage of life before they return to the dust, and the earth takes back what is its own?

Actually, the reason that there was a spotlight shining upon an empty stage was because L'ArcenCiel was late.

Ah, but what, ho! They appeared in a doorway, struggling to free themselves from the mob of screaming, rabid fangirls. Inch by inch they made their way in, and finally, shut the door behind them. And then, of course they placed a chair, two sofa's, a cabinet, the remains of the R.M.S. Titanic, and Greenland in front of the door, to prevent any of the fangirl's fom following them.

They took the stage, and began to play. What would any FullMetal Alchemist parody be without L'ArcenCiel singing "Ready, Steady, Go!" ?

This is what they sang:

"Rada Shtadee canoldeebahk!  
Raddee Shtadee gimmee gold rock!  
Raddee Shtaddee nefahr rook bahk!  
Lesasasarsa Radee Shtaddee ggoooo!"

Umm...

* * *

L'ArcenCielYAYL'ArcenCiel

* * *

FauxMetal Alchemist

Chapter One: Natural Laws... and very large words

Lamp-light danced hesitantly on the shelf-lined walls of a small room while in the distance a clock tolled thirteen. Two young boys knelt in the center of the room on the edge of an intricately designed circle that had a pile of pitch-dark materials in its center; the air in the room seemed to have fled, leaving an aura of breathless expectation. The boys pressed their hands to the circle's edge, and with their touch it's finely traced curves glowed, and light flared up from its center in a dancing vortex. As the light rose up a disembodied voice began to speak, as if in explanation.

"Biochemistry," it said, "the science of understanding the way that tiny organic particles make life possible."

"I don't get it either."

"But Alchemy, the science of understanding the structure of matter, breaking it down, then reconstructing it as something else, is SO much cooler than biochemistry. You can even make gold from lead. But alchemy is a science, and as such it must follow the natural laws. I hate laws. Especially the 'natural laws'. Birds can fly. Why can't I fly? Gravity sucks. It would be so much cooler if people could fly--imagine it, viewing the world from the eagle's eyes, all the earth spread out before you as a--"

"Brother, you're monologing again," an innocent voice, like a flute's, said. It was answered by a surly growl, "Al, I told you, I get to do the introduction!"

"But you keep getting off topic!" Al protested.

"Fine. So, to create, something of equal value must be lost. This is the principle of--"

"Toukan Koukan!" Al shouted.

"Al!"

"Sorry! But it's so cool sounding, like the word epyzuexis!" Al piped.

"This is the principle--"

"Or photophosphorolation!" Al interjected yet again.

"THIS is the principle," Ed began hotly, "of Equivalent Exchange. But on that night, I learned the value of some things can't be measured on a simple scale. My brother and I knew the laws of science--of equivalent exchange, that gain required sacrifice, that something had to be taken _from_ us. But we thought there was nothing more we could lose..."

There was a very pregnant pause before Ed spoke again in a tortured voice.

"We were wrong."

"Yep," Al said, "we sure were."

Ed heaved a sigh. "You know, Al, you just took all of the weight and drama out of those last three words," he said.

"Sorry, Brother," Al pouted from somewhere off-screen.

In the time that the voices, now silent, had taken to speak, the vortex of light had become, not darkness, but light which was flawed, terrifying, like the sun itself if it caught some terrible, wasting malignancy: and that was more terrifying than if the light had disappeared entirely. The sick beams swirled around the poor children until, out of the rays, thousands of black tentacles reached forth, and, writhing and twisting, wrapped themselves around the body of the younger, yet taller, Elric boy.

The older boy turned at the sound of his brother's tormented screams, which were joined in a duet with his own, for the sight that met his gaze was more horrendous than any which he had previously beheld. His brother's terrified face was sitting upon a body that was dissolving before his very eyes, and the disgusting myriad of arms that held that that body in their death grip were forcing him to do the Macerena, like a tragic puppet on strings. Reaching his desperate hands out, the older Elric grabbed for his brother, but closed his hands on emptiness.

Another pain shot through the base of his left leg, rising to meet the grief and numbness and disbelief that shot through him. He looked down. His leg was gone, a river of red pouring down where his knee should have been. He looked up. Al was gone. Then the lights vanished, as if into some unnamed door, and all fell silent.

All silent, except for a small sound that could be compared to that of a dying creature gasping for breath. Another sound, completely alien, was rising to meet it. Edward lifted his eyes up, hardly daring to hope that anything in this—this mistake—had gone right. But his small hope was betrayed. The sight he met! The unspeakable terror! If indeed there are things so terrible, so gruesome, that they cannot be described by pen or tongue, that sight was one of them. A scream tore from his lips, of terror, of pain…mostly of pain.

Backplanet Creatures, the only Ewok/Gungan boy band, with Jar-Jar Binks as its lead singer, were performing in the middle of his living room.

Ed howled at them to get lost, and, fearing they had the same stubbornness as cockroaches in a nuclear apocalypse, he screamed at them even more.

They left, pouting, and as the smoke from the dry ice the aliens had been using as special effects dissipated, the boy, half kneeling on the floor, regretted their departure with all his being.

A human shape lay upon the floor—but it was not human. It could not be. Bloated flesh covered it. A malformed arm twisted out of its side. A heart, visible, throbbed irregularly in its chest. "The WHO" was tattooed on what could have been its thigh. Grayish lumps of flesh were splayed without order around its sides. Its flanks heaved. Edgar Allen Poe's Brainchild. Decayed. Grotesque. Macabre. Phantasmagoric. Disgusting. Dead. Not human.

A little ways away from that house, under a sheet of clouds, half hidden by the thick, gray curtain of rainfall, stood an ominous figure, silhouetted in the dark. A drenched cloak hung from his shoulders and on his head sat a very oddly shaped hat. He glared across the gray landscape and said, in a soft, foreboding voice, "Something foul is in the air...".

Behind him he heard a little cough, followed by a frantic tugging on his sleeve and a small voice saying, "Sir, you're looking the wrong way".

The grim figure looked down at his arm. Standing there was a little boy who had appeared from nowhere. "What?" the figure asked, sounding annoyed.

"You're looking the wrong way!" the boy repeated emphatically.

The figure sighed. "Get lost, kid—"

"You're looking the WRONG WAY," the boy shouted, and he pulled the figure's arm so that he had to turn a full 180 degrees. He _had _been looking the wrong way.

He could now see a tiny house, which, on the outside, looked disarmingly peaceful. But, with his innate powers of perception, the figure decided that something was awry. Of course, the scream which tore itself from the throat of the only living human inside, at the exact same time that lightning struck near the little building, was so bestial, so tormented, so saturated with grief, pain and terror, could have told any person that.

After the scream ended, there were more things going on inside that house, more things that boggle mind and nature alike. But, dear reader, do you really believe that we would tell you about those things now?

* * *

ckc: sorry about the shortness of the actual chappie.

TheWakeboardingFuzzyKiwibird: The chapters will get longer and there will be a lot less rambling from here on out. So, could anyone tell who wrote that (it will get funnier, I promise)

ckc: we WILL update soon… now where have I heard that before? (hmmmm… we can only wonder)

TWFK: An we will be taking the story a little farther from the original…not in plot, exactly, but in substance.

ckc: Okay! Please review! and no flames please! (all flamers will be pelted with kiwibirds) Zjugri!


End file.
